User blog:JerekShay'll/The Avengers Hunted: Chapter 3
Damon Miller wasn't one to take his time on getting things done. Due to his military training, he never could wait. So, today was the day he started to take down his targets. The Avengers. But first he had to acquire some rather unorthodox weapons. Damon walked into the large pawn shop, walking through the sales floor to where a man was punching something into the register. The man was average height, average build, everything about him was ordinary. That's why he was the perfect man to be running a black market weapons business off his porch. "The blue wolf has no arms." Damon said. The man stopped, then slowly turned to him. "The red panther has arms for him." The old pawn broker said. Damon nodded slowly. The man began to walk away, to the back room of the warehouse. Damon followed suit, and went into the back of the place. In crates all around him, where rather dull looking items. Shovels, weed whackers, computers. Stuff that he didn't need. "This way, Damon." The old man said. They walked into a small back room, and this caused Damon to make a rare smile. AA-12s, M-16s, Magnum .44s, even a smaller rifle sixed rotary cannon. "This is more like it." Damon said. "Okay, let's begin." The old man said. He lifted up a large weapon, and coked it. "This is an AA-12, full automatic shotgun, because I modified it, shoots regular shotgun shells. However, since I upgraded it to a full automatic, it can go through bullet proof armor, but I don't need to tell you how I know that." He grinned then put in next to him on a chair. He picked up a larger nickel plated pistol next. "This is a Colt Anaconda, it has a six round cylinder, shoots Magnum .44 bullets, and it packs a hell of a punch." Damon began to walk to the weapons racks and looked at them. "I'll take two of these, one of these, three of those, and two Derringer model pistols and a G22." He said. The man looked at him, them back at the guns. "So you want, a G22, two AA-12s, a Sig MPX, three Colt Anacondas, three Derringer pistols." The shady salesman said. "That's right." Damon replied. "Okay. That'll be three grand." He said. Damon casually, took the money out of his pocket, and tossed it on the table. "Thanks," Damon said, as he took the guns off the table and into a duffle bag. "Don't worry, all the money is there." The man seemed to take his word for it and put the money in his pocket. "Oh, I almost forgot, here's another grand." He said. "Another thousand?" The man questioned. "I need you to recommend a surgeon to me, a surgeon not afraid for big things." He said mysteriously. "Like what?" The weapons dealer asked. Damon lifted up one of the AA-12s and pointed to a stub on his right arm where his hand used to reside. "Like putting this shotgun into my arm." There were somethings Steve Rogers wished he could forget. Like the battles he had fought in. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty, but it was the things he saw that were eternally etched into his memory. Because it was times like these he could think of them. When he was trying to go to sleep. Snap! The German's neck broke easily, with his face now looking grosteque to say the least. He wished he could forget. But he couldn't. There was a splatter as the bullet pierced the man's eye socket; and an animalistic scream as he fell to the floor, cupping the blood that flowed from his eye. After all; he was mutated so he'd be the perfect human. A shot to the head took the poor German soldier out of his misery. He couldn't even get drunk now. One of the American soldiers took a shot to the arm, and hid behind a tree. He looked from behind it only to see a German soldier charging forward with a bayonet. It wasn't a pretty picture. Steve got up out of his bed and looked around in the small room he occupied. He was tired and lonely. Times like this was when he needed a good whack over the head with a rifle. He was just that tired. He got up from his bed and walked out to the hallway. The first thing that caught his eye was the crest in the middle of hall. The crest of S.H.I.E.L.D. He wandered out into the hallway and heard four chimes on a large clock. It was officially four in the morning. What could he do know that he was bored? Read the paper, was what first came to mind. He went all the way down the seemingly unending corridor and opened the door to the break room. As he walked in a maintenance man just walked out. "Excuse me." He said with an unusually husky voice. He moved out of the way and looked at the nearest table. On it was the New York Times. He took a cup of cold coffee and sat down at the table, and he began to read... Damon breathed sigh of relief as he passed Steve Rogers in the hallway. He thought he'd been a janitor, which was good. He walked into the gymnasium and brought the duffel bag he'd hidden away earlier. He quickly looked at his watch. It was 4:10. In about ten to fifteen minutes, Target 1 would be coming in to work out, and use the punching bag. But when he punched it, he'd have a nasty surprise. He lifted up the cinder block with a heavy heave and began to work.... Steve finished his coffee, and the previous day's paper, and began to walk over to the gym. He figured he could get some good three hours in before anyone else decided to show up. He walked in and bumped into the same janitor as earlier. They awkwardly parted ways and Steve looked at the treadmill he'd normally start on. "Out of order?" He asked in disbelief. Normally S.H.I.E.L.D. maintained their equipment routinely. "Guess I'll just have to start on the punching bag first." He said. He got in the fighting stance he normally started in. He threw a heavy punch at the punching bag, and instantly dropped to his knees in agony. He let out a roar of excruciating pain, which caught the attention of the janitor. He ran over to him, and was on his knees at his side. "What's the matter?" He asked. "I think I broke my hand." The soldier said, clutching his palm. The janitor took out a small first aid kit out of his bag, and laid the First Avenger down. "Okay, this is gonna hurt a little bit." He said. He stuck a large needle in the Captain's neck, and injecting some clear liquid into him. He let out a noiseless scream from the combined pain. His eyes began to fog up, making him dizzy. "Goodnight, Captain." The janitor said. Then all turned black..... Damon tore off the ridiculous mustache he had on as a part of his disguise as he drove the truck out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. He drove out the main gate, and turned left onto the road and headed out on the main highway. He secured the Target, also known as Captain Steve Rogers to the side of the van using chains made of metal similar to that of the shield he carried. In a duffel bag, Damon had the Captain's armor and shield, which was all a part of his plan for the Avengers takedown. He put the truck on autopilot momentarily and picked up a clipboard next to him. On it was the names and pictures of each of the Avengers. He took out a red highlighter, and made a large red "X" over the photo of Target 1, Captain Rogers. With a evil grin he sent a text message to his employer. "One down, five to go." Category:Blog posts